


Nothing So Visible Than What You Want to Hide

by NonchalantDanger



Category: Carmen Sandiego (Cartoon 2019)
Genre: A ninja being a big softie and trying to deny/hide it, Angst with a Happy Ending, Baby Black Sheep, Gen, S2 gave me ALL the feels, Young Shadowsan, dadowsan, not too much angst though
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-08
Updated: 2020-04-12
Packaged: 2020-11-27 16:49:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 6,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20951678
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NonchalantDanger/pseuds/NonchalantDanger
Summary: AKA Shadowsan becoming Dadowsan. From baby Black Sheep to full-grown, badass, crime-fighting Carmen, all the times that one ninja couldn’t pretend he didn’t care.





	1. Baa Baa Black Sheep

**Author's Note:**

> Season 2 gave me ALL THE FEELS. The plot twist of Season 1 was fully capitalized upon and I. Am. Here For It. 
> 
> This is sort of a connected bunch of oneshots. In the notes of each chapter I’ll establish how old Black Sheep/Carmen is and go from there. 
> 
> Feel free to comment, leave kudos, bookmark if you like!
> 
> Enjoy!

Before Shadowsan became _ Shadowsan: feared VILE Faculty Member, resident ninja, and master of stealth _ , his codename was self-explanatory, for a shadow is what he was. Silent and unseen, there and gone without a whisper or a glimpse to place him if he didn’t reveal himself. Untouchable. Shadows did not falter. Shadows did not leave evidence of their passing. Shadows did not care if they witnessed the orphaning of a child -- _ a baby _\-- and destroyed the only home that child had ever had. 

Shadows certainly did not bring the aforementioned child onto the helicopter that would return to a top-secret island, and _ definitely _ did not... _ cuddle _ with it after whisking it away.

Shadowsan frowned into the child’s thick, silken hair, her scarlet curls tickling his nose. She had fallen asleep shortly after they had boarded the VILE transport, and Shadowsan was so bewildered that he hadn’t dared move or catch up on rest himself. He could feel each of her little, soft breaths against his chin, tucked under it as she was. They were no longer hitching and hiccuping with distress and that relieved him more than he cared to examine at the moment. 

Very slowly, he curled his arm more snugly around her plump infantile form, careful not to jostle her awake and be confronted with the squirming, grouchy evidence of his largest error in judgment to date. He would have more than enough to explain -- _ to lie about _ \-- to the Faculty _ without _ her no doubt loud and unattractive contribution. 

When had he decided he was going to lie? Upon introspection, he found the only reasonable answer to be the moment he saw Professor Wolfe shot, and heard the child wail again from the closet. His primary motivation was to obscure his own failure; the sight of the child had made him hesitate when he never had before, not since his first triumph. He would claim the theft of Professor Wolfe’s life, and play his sudden, inexplicable attachment -- for that’s what it was, and he swore to himself that even Dr. Bellum’s finest interrogation inventions would never be able to pull it out of him when he realized -- off as practicality, a subordinate agent’s uncertainty about the extent to which he should _ tie up loose ends _. 

It was flimsy, but it could work.

A faint whimper, muffled by the material of his sweater, disturbed his spiralling thoughts. He froze, but she had settled again almost before he could think of what he would have done had she awoken. He huffed ruefully to himself that such an efficient thief of everything from an origami-folded dollar to _ lives _ could be so quickly attuned to the faintest sound from someone so insignificant as a baby. 

A baby whose father was dead. 

** _I_ ** _ was sent to kill Wolfe in the first place; she would have become an orphan anyway. _

Shadowsan nearly growled aloud before remembering the slumbering infant in his arms. He choked the sound down behind clenched teeth, wishing that he hadn’t been sent to steal Wolfe’s life, that the infamous thief hadn’t decided to escape from his criminal lifestyle, or had disappeared into anonymity with his family before VILE had ever got wind of his plans. Any of those would have spared Shadowsan from this situation. He glanced down at the girl, and his frustration was snuffed by the sight of her sleep-rosy face squished against his shoulder. 

He silently recanted his earlier thoughts; another operative might have evaluated her for the loose end she was and dealt with her accordingly. 

The on-board intercom pinged. 

“_ 15 minutes out from VILE Island. _”

Shadowsan sighed heavily; nine hours wasted because of his own..._ softness _ . He cringed; this child was unraveling him at the seams. It was unbecoming of an accomplished thief, let alone one with his reputation for menacing, stony-faced silence in the face of...well, everything. His uncharacteristic behavior would draw attention to the child, which would put her in more danger than even _ he _ could fathom.

He realized abruptly he did not know her name. Wolfe had never said it, only cooing little nicknames in various languages. He had not even said it in farewell before closing the closet door. 

Shadowsan had risked his career -- and his life -- to save the nameless daughter of a master thief and his unknown lover, and the Faculty still might decide that she was expendable. Shadowsan did growl low in his throat then, out of frustration, out of mounting panic, and other gut-churning emotions he would need to strangle into submission within the next five minutes. 

He exhaled through his nose, forcing his eyes to slide shut and his shoulders to drop. He inhaled for five heartbeats, and exhaled for eight. He did it again. And again. And again, until he could no longer keep count by his heartbeat because it had slowed so significantly. 

He opened his eyes again, glancing down at the sleeping baby. She had drooled on him in the short time since he had last checked. 

The helicopter lurched gently, signaling the descent into landing. One of the cleaners — Boris? Vlad? He could never tell them apart — walked out of the cockpit. 

“The Faculty want to speak to you immediately.”

“Understood.”

The cleaner’s pale features bent with consternation, gaze dropping to the baby cradled against Shadowsan’ chest. Shadowsan resisted the urge to shift her further away or curl around her protectively, but he did meet the cleaner’s dead unwavering stare with a narrowed one of his own. The man’s reptilian gaze slid away. Shadowsan took it as a small victory. 

No more than a minute later, the helicopter came to a delicate touch-down on the landing pad and the roar of the rotors changed to a high whine as the system cooled off. Shadowsan stood smoothly from his seat, katana in one hand and the child in the other. He was careful, but exiting the chopper and descending to the main walkway to HQ jostled her, or maybe she had simply had enough sleep. Her eyes blinked open, revealing her steely irises again, and she began squirming in his grasp. 

Shadowsan sighed as she gurgled happily, curious hands grasping at his collar, head wobbling on her neck and taking in her new surroundings, and resigned himself to a long and fraught debriefing. 

_______________________________________________________________________________________________________________

It was easy for Shadowsan to keep his report brief — he completely removed Wolfe’s escape, and thus the young Interpol agent's part in his death, and gave only enough detail of his own actions to seamlessly fill the holes left by the things he omitted. The Faculty were distracted more than enough by his extra baggage not to question him with much intensity. 

The baby was making noises as she crawled along the Faculty table, and it was so ridiculous that Shadowsan had to focus on frowning to keep from smirking to himself at Countess Cleo’s obvious disgust and the others’ confusion.

“Why on _ earth _ would you bring this thing back to the island?”

Shadowsan had prepared an answer — even if it meant opening himself up to more questions — but he spoke up too slowly.

“Well now, what was Shadowsan supposed to do?” Coach Brunt’s tone was sickeningly sweet with her Texan drawl.

“What we always do with loose ends.” _What Shadowsan_ _should’ve done_, Maelstrom was clearly implying, but he too seemed curious about the child. 

Dr. Bellum, practical as always, interjected. “The child is far too young to have any memory of anything which could compromise us in the future.”

Countess Cleo shuddered as the baby made a particularly juicy-sounding gurgle, but the child didn’t notice, preoccupied with a fisted grip on a slim plastic sheath. 

“My pocket protector!” Dr. Bellum exclaimed.

“Well, well: looks like lil’ lambkins is a natural-born thief.” 

“With proper rearing, she could make a fine operative one day.” True to his namesake, Maelstrom was only interested in profit, and barring that, destruction and chaos. Shadowsan was sure that he was morbidly interested in watching Wolfe’s daughter grow, to raise her so that she’d be just as talented, but more controllable than her father. 

Countess Cleo frowned, “But what about her lineage? If we tell her about what happened to Wolfe, she will never want to work for V.I.L.E.”

_ Good _. Shadowsan thought, and surprised himself with his own vehemence.

Coach Brunt smirked at her colleagues, “All in favor of keeping this lovely little lamb?”

“And keeping her parentage a secret?” 

Four hands lifted, and the Faculty’s focus was on the ninja that stood before them. Slowly, he raised his hand as well, sealing the pact between them, and ensuring the baby’s safety...for now. Coach Brunt seemed to be very attached already, cooing and speaking in a particular, childish tone to elicit the babe’s pealling laughter.

Shadowsan did _ not _ sigh with relief because Dr. Maelstrom was evaluating him with a particular, diabolical gleam in his eyes. 

“You did very well, Shadowsan. Stealing a Faculty member’s life is quite the feat; such skill and loyalty should be rewarded.”

The others seemed to understand Maelstrom’s underlying meaning, straightening in their chairs and evaluating Shadowsan in turn. He felt the hair at the nape of his neck bristle from the scrutiny. 

“I nominate Shadowsan to take Dexter Wolfe’s seat among the Faculty.”

If Shadowsan had not taken years to cultivate such an immaculately taciturn mask, blood would have drained visibly from his face with the shock. He was a first year operative; no matter his skills, this was unprecedented. But to refuse would be an offense that would impact his professional life for what little remained of it. 

Coach Brunt smiled, her lipstick shiny in the strange lighting of the Faculty Hall. “Seconded.”

Maelstrom lifted his hand. “All in favor?”

Four hands lifted once again. 

“Congratulations.” Countess Cleo offered primly, still frowning at the baby that Coach Brunt cradled. 

Shadowsan swallowed to wet his throat. The first two times were ineffectual, but on the third he was able to croak a low word of gratitude as he bowed deeply. 

The debriefing adjourned; Dr. Bellum had software updates to monitor, and the Countess another buyer dinner to organize. Dr. Maelstrom departed in silence, and Coach Brunt kept up a steady stream of baby-talk, endearments, and low drawling all the way to the door. Shadowsan was the last to leave the hall, his feet taking him back to his room, despite knowing that the cleaners had probably already moved his belongings to Wolfe’s old suite. The Faculty was once more made of five masterminds, though Shadowsan did not feel like one; he felt lost, immensely foolish, and inexplicably sad. 

His mistake was obscured by his own retelling and the others’ lack of curiosity, and he had been rewarded for an accomplishment — _a crime_ — that wasn’t his. The child had a home, at least temporarily. Depending on how well the other Faculty adjusted to her presence, it might be more long-term than Shadowsan’s cynical mind could predict. Why was he so worried? Why did he care about what happened to the still nameless baby, daughter of a master thief, and the only one to ever set foot on V.I.L.E Island?

He frowned to himself; such disorganized thoughts were not conducive to acclimating to his new position as a Faculty member. He would have to put the child out of his mind. 

He nearly missed his room out of distraction, but smoothly, if abruptly stopped. The door slid open to reveal a bare dormitory, undisturbed; the Cleaners had already been here. 

He sighed again — he was doing that more often, lately — and began the long trek back across the complex to the Faculty suites. 

When he finally retired to bed, he realized he could still feel the phantom weight of the baby’s tiny frame across his chest, and the sensation remained until he succumbed to unconsciousness.


	2. Ocean Echoes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Black sheep is only a couple months older (so probably 1, 1 and a half?), and in the way toddlers do, doesn’t sleep. Shadowsan deals as a Dadowsan does.

Shadowsan continued to accept missions during the months prior to his first year of teaching Stealth 101. He was careful to maintain transparency with his fellow Faculty members so as not to appear to follow the same path as Wolfe, but with his new seat and elevated status came a restlessness, an unsettling of his spirit only quieted by long hours folding origami or the thrill of a heist. Dr. Bellum had commented on the attrition of paper, so he’d resorted to the field.

He was returning from one such operation — an enormously successful theft of rare sculptures from the Louvre, feeling more content than he had in weeks, pleasantly exhausted from the grueling acrobatics needed to defeat the security systems and still wired on adrenaline — when he came across Dr. Maelstrom. The mastermind did not acknowledge him, which was not unusual. What was unusual was his shuffling walk, his half-lidded eyes, the bags beneath them intensely purple and larger than normal. He also had dried drool on his shirt sleeve and his clothes looked rumpled from more than a day’s wear.

“Dr. Maelstrom. Is something the matter?”

Maelstrom — Shadowsan was still not used to thinking of him as Gunnar — blinked blearily at him before his eyes widened.

“Ah…” he cleared the hoarseness from his throat, but his accent had thickened with exhaustion too. “I didn’t realize you had returned, Shadowsan.”

“I only just arrived, and you did not answer my question.”

Gunnar squinted at him reproachfully. “Black Sheep has been...difficult.”

_I have only been gone for a week. What could have happened?_ Shadowsan’s alarm nearly caused him to miss his fellow faculty member’s next words: “It’s been three nights of incessant wailing. Surely she has to sleep at some point?”

“Where is she?”

Maelstrom lifted a brow at Shadowsan’s brusqueness, but motioned down the Faculty hall. “She is with Coach Brunt.”

Shadowsan was mid-motion by the time Gunnar had finished speaking, striding quickly into the faculty suites. He immediately heard a desperate, increasingly warbling wail, interrupted by intermittent gasps. The sound clawed at something inside him unpleasantly and it grew louder as he took a turn towards Coach Brunt’s side of the facility. When he reached her door, it automatically slid open; the sudden increase in volume made him wince.

Coach Brunt was pacing across her private lounge, back and forth, bouncing a red-faced and screaming Black Sheep in her arms. It was obvious that Brunt had been up with their young charge for some time; her gentle crooning was slurred with exhaustion, and she staggered every few steps. Black Sheep was oblivious, lost in the throes of her sobbing.

“Coach Brunt.”

The woman started as if from sleep, snorting and squinting to focus on Shadowsan in the doorway. “Uh, Shadowsan?”

“Yes.” He extended his arms. “Allow me to take the child so you may get some rest.”

Brunt did not seem to understand him the first time, so he repeated himself. Once she did, she was quick to hand Black Sheep off, so much so that Shadowsan had to snatch the toddler from mid-air so that she wouldn’t slip to the floor. Coach Brunt retreated to her sleeping quarters with barely a wave over one shoulder. He retreated back across the threshold before the door could shut in his face.

Shadowsan tucked Black Sheep against his hip, peering down at the crying child. She had tear streaks and snot, dried and fresh, all across her face, so Shadowsan fumbled for a grip on the sleeve of his tactical shirt to wipe some of the residue away. She didn’t care for that, writhing away from his ministrations with an ear-splitting shriek.

Impulsively, he began walking not towards his own quarters, but towards the exit; the Faculty wing faced a beautiful stretch of beach that most students were unaware of. It was fairly secluded, bordered as it was by jagged coves. Shadowsan had often retreated there during his time in the academy when his classmates became overly annoying. Black Sheep could cry until she fell asleep if she so chose, and Shadowsan would sit with her.

The night air was almost muggy, stirred only by a cool breeze coming off the water. The surf was low, the waves gentle, so Shadowsan strode nearly to the water’s edge. Muscle memory of years made it so that his footsteps barely disturbed the sand over which he passed, but with his boots on there was only so much he could control, so he discarded them.

Black Sheep’s screaming had faded to pitiful bawling against his shoulder, his long, even stride soothing her somewhat. Carefully, he bounced her, pointing out towards the water.

“Look, Black Sheep.”

After a moment of pouting, she did. Her eyes went wide with wonder and curiosity. To Shadowsan’s awe, her irises were the same moonlit grey-blue as the ocean.

“Eeh.” Her diminutive hand reached out toward the water.

She wanted to be closer. Shadowsan frowned; an unexpectedly forceful wave would be dangerous for her at this age. “I do not think that is wise.”

“_Eeeh_.” Insistence was very clear in her tone. She turned her large eyes to him, now clear of welling tears, instead filled with fierce determination. Her little brows furrowed deeper the longer he held her gaze until her glare very nearly mirrored his own.

She tried one more time, grabbing at the rise and retreat of the waterline, her inarticulate request pleading this time. “Ah...ah…” Her eyes said please.

_This does not bode well for your ability to handle your students_, Shadowsan chastised himself as he felt his resolve cave under her steady-eyed pleading. He knelt into _seiza_, the dampness from the sand seeping into the shins of his cargo pants, careful to keep ahold of Black Sheep until she found her balance. She was much more confident standing and walking than she had been a few months ago — when she had first made her startling stumble into his life — but Shadowsan, being consummately versed in ways to exploit the weaknesses of the human body, was ever-aware of how vulnerable she was.

Black Sheep did not seem to care. She happily smashed her feet into the soft ground, gurgling as sand squished between her toes. She was a little startled when water washed over her legs for the first time, but she steadied herself, and waited for it to happen again. Her reaction then shifted to delight and before he could stop her she had sat down heavily in the shallow surf, splashing with the haphazard vigor young children fall into.

“It is quite nice, isn’t it?” He murmured.

She wasn’t really paying attention to him, but she seemed content, and showed no signs of returning to her state of distress. He wondered at what upset her in the first place to the extent she would keep half of the Faculty up for three days. His own exhaustion was catching up with him; he felt it like a heavy winter coat encumbering his shoulders and limbs. The rolling roar of the waves was not helping.

She made a triumphant noise as she caught some water in her hand.

“You will learn to swim when you are older. Diving for treasure is something I am sure you will enjoy.”

Black Sheep looked up, recognizing the gentle tones of his voice and cooing her contentment.

Shadowsan dug a mollusk shell out from the sand beside them and held it out to her. Joyfully, she took it and inspected it, turning it over in her hands — almost putting it in her mouth, before Shadowsan diverted her by motioning for her to put it against her ear.

“_My ears are seashells; they remember the oceans echoes._”

He startled himself with the poem, recited in his native Japanese; the last time he had done so had been at Hideo’s prompting, and only ever with petulance and begrudging. Black Sheep was oblivious to his sudden reminiscence, giggling as she dipped the shell in the surf and drained the water from it over and over again. He looked away, out across the shores of the island.

A deep, shaky inhale-exhale caught his attention. He recognized it as a yawn a moment later; Black Sheep was rubbing at her eyes, listing a little back and forth. Shadowsan smiled at the sudden onset of tiredness — an enviable privilege, to go from screaming to snoring in half an hour and have it just be accepted — and scooped her into his arms again, uncaring as his sleeves became damp as well. He reclaimed his boots on the walk back, tucked them under one arm even as Black Sheep sagged against his shoulder, held in the other, eyelids drooping with every sway of his step. Even three days into sleeplessness, she valiantly attempted to force her eyes open, but it was a losing battle.

“It is all right, _hitsuji_. You will have much more time for adventures soon.”

It was only after the walk back to her nursery, changing her into pajamas, and ensuring that the security and monitor systems were powered on and transmitting that he realized Black Sheep was still clutching the mollusk shell. He took it so she wouldn’t cut herself on the narrow edge in the night, and left to find his own rest.  
______

Shadowsan slept through the night and into the next day. When he did eventually open his eyes, it was to the sight of an unfamiliar object set by his palette. He recognized the size and shape of it from the night before, but in the light of late morning the mollusk shell’s white-grey-black mottled color shone iridescent.

The corner of his mouth curled upwards without his permission.  
________

Two weeks later, his first Stealth 101 class watched with eager, ravenous attention as he held the shell between two fingers in front of them.

“A seashell. Outwardly small and worthless, difficult to keep track of.” A twist of his fingers slipped it out of view, feigning a tuck into his pocket even as he kept it in his sleeve and passed it to his other hand to secret it into the folds of his kimono on the other side. “To steal, quickness is important, but focus more so.”

He pointed to a student in the front. “Front facing pass. Take it from me.”

The young man did as he was told, and predictably, expectedly, failed to locate the shell. Shadowsan was not so unsuccessful.

Shadowsan held up the young agent’s access card to murmurs of awe and fear from the class. “You were so focused on your objective you did not notice that I took advantage. Your _mind_ must be fluid as well as your body; the stupid, unimaginative thief _always_ gets caught.”

“You will learn this, or you will not pass.” A few nods from his audience. From their expressions, he had earned a modicum of respect; he would have to continue to do so.

He showed them the shell again, and set it on the stand that held his katana. “To serve as a reminder.”

He glared over his shoulder at them. “Stealing this will _NOT_ earn you extra credit.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Woah! This fic has gotten so much traffic and I love it! Thank you to all those that have left kudos and commented; I do read them, and they make my day. 
> 
> The little poem in this chapter is actually (I believe) a French writer translating to Japanese.


	3. Marshmallows

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We discover that Dadowsan likes hot chocolate. 
> 
> Sorry for the long break between chapters; I'm supposed to be writing an essay for a national security law class, whoops. 
> 
> Any mistakes are mine - this is unbeta'ed, as always - and I wrote this in two days. 
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos!

There was a single panel of the sleek, modern flooring that lined all but the training wings and laboratories within VILE Crime School that creaked when weight was applied to it. From walking the halls as a student, operative, and Faculty member, Shadowsan knew every feature that could thwart his goal of moving with utter silence, and therefore he _ knew _ the particular _ eek-eerk _ tone of the synthetic material flexing and releasing. 

It was extremely convenient that the aforementioned panel happened to be just outside his classroom door. He had cultivated a reputation for being uncannily aware thanks -- in part -- to it. He could tell which of his students was passing by the particular sound the combination of pressure and speed of movement produced. Even his fellow Faculty hadn’t realized it. 

So when the panel gave its particular _ eek-eerk _ more softly than he’d heard before, Shadowsan paused in completing his _ katas _ , ears perked towards the closed door. There was a long moment of silence and stillness, and only because Shadowsan had paused to allow his entire attention to focus on listening for another sound did he hear the gentle, much quieter _ eeeeekkk _ as the weight on the panel released with deliberate, practiced slowness. 

His potential intruder had noticed their mistake. Shadowsan then knew who stood outside his door; only Black Sheep, even as small and untrained as she was, took such care. Shadowsan allowed himself a smile, smothering it as he continued stepping through his _ kenjutsu _ form; the young V.I.L.E. charge would grow impatient, and he only needed to wait a few moments based on past observations. 

His expectations held true. The automatic door hissed open just as he was crouching in to _ seiza _. 

“You should learn to knock, Black Sheep.” He did not look at her. 

“A good thief doesn’t knock, Shadowsan. That would give me away.” She said stubbornly, but there was a hint of giggle at the edge of her words. 

“I think the floor already did so.” 

She huffed with frustration, confirming that she had noticed the floor squeaking beneath her, and he heard her soft, quick-striding footsteps crescendo to his side. She sat down across from him. 

“What are you doing?”

He sighed. Such an inane question, but not answering it would only garner another. “I am completing _ kenjutsu katas_. Sword forms.”

“Can you teach me?”

“You are too small, even for a _ bokken _.” Her lower lip bent into a pout. “But meditation would be useful for you; you can tame your rampant impatience.” 

She brightened at the challenge. “Okay.” She frowned. She moved her feet underneath her in an attempt to copy his position. Her youthful muscles fell into form without any stiffness, and Shadowsan envied her, just a little; years of heist work and hard, unpredictable living was beginning to make itself known, aches that had never been there before and random bouts of soreness that lasted days past what it had previously. He would never let any discomfort show; he had learned enough discipline in his youth never to succumb to demonstrating weakness, and to do so as a Faculty member would be the first step towards his removal. 

“What do I do now?” Black Sheep asked. Her grey eyes were wide and attentive. Shadowsan caught a glimpse of the way Instructor Wolfe used to be when he was planning a caper. _ Overwhelming focus _. 

“Rest your hands on your legs.”

She did.

“Breathe deeply, with your eyes closed. Attempt to clear your mind of any thoughts, or all but one, and isolate your mind from any distractions. Feel for the timing of your pulse.” He spoke softly, watching as her eyes closed. He fell into his own breathing pattern soon after. 

He expected her to become restless fairly quickly. He heard a forceful huff, and the shift of her legs on the mat, but she returned to stillness. Opening his eyes briefly, her posture was a picture of _ determination _. She was, indeed, bored out of her mind, but through sheer force of will she was sitting still, nary more that the clench and unclench of her fingers to give her away. He closed his eyes again, content to wait her out.

He lost track of time, to his mild astonishment. She had obviously inherited more than just her father’s eyes. He, too, had held an unrivalled tenacity; goal in sight, he had done everything within his not-inconsiderate capability to achieve it. Shadowsan wondered quietly at her, imagining her a decade older and sitting in this classroom with others around her, excelling at the detailed, complicated tasks he set before her. He found himself perturbed by it, though he couldn’t directly place why. 

He refocused; he was not setting a good example in _ clearing his mind of distractions _. 

Some length of time passed in companionable silence and stillness -- Shadowsan would guess close to an hour, by his internal clock -- before Black Sheep finally tired. 

“How long do you usually do this for?” Her tone was filled with exasperation and boredom, maybe a little awe. 

He opened his eyes to answer her. “For as long as I can before someone interrupts me.” He smiled gently to lessen the bite of his words. Black Sheep took the jab as he intended, grinning back at him. 

“And when you’re done?”

“I make a cup of tea.”

A particular, cunning gleam took over her gaze. He knew her intent before she voiced it. 

“But occasionally I indulge with hot chocolate.” 

“With whipped cream?” She was practically vibrating out of _ seiza _, crouched and ready to bolt to the door.

He frowned his mock-disapproval at her. “_ Marshmallows _, Black Sheep, are always better than whipped cream.”

“Nuh-uh.” She stood, grabbing his hand from where it rested on his leg and pulling him with her. He allowed it. “Though...if you made some, I could try it…”

“Is that so?”

“I might change my mind. _ Or _ you might decide you like whipped cream. You never know.”

He raised a brow, smothering a smile; her impish joy was infectious when he was not the focus of it. He stood barely a chance against it now. Admittedly, he _ had _been craving a cup of hot chocolate; it would not be an entire derailment of his day. “Indeed.” he hummed. Black Sheep’s smile grew impossibly wider, and she tugged him along by the hand.

If Dr. Bellum later saw them in the secluded Faculty kitchen, each cradling too-full mugs of hot chocolate, blinked at the sight of Shadowsan’s amusement-narrowed eyes and the foamy mustache Black Sheep sported, and retreated without claiming her leftovers, Shadowsan did not care; Dr. Bellum was not one to gossip, and even if she did, a well-placed glare and silent, startling approach would dissuade any notion of V.I.L.E.’s resident ninja having gone soft. 

  
Besides, it was an excuse to drink hot chocolate. Topped with marshmallows _ and _ whipped cream (He and Black Sheep had come to the mutual conclusion that the combination was the best solution to their difference in tastes), it was the perfect reward for his patience, and hers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long break between chapters; I'm supposed to be writing an essay for a national security law class, whoops. 
> 
> Any mistakes are mine - this is unbeta'ed, as always - and I wrote this in two days. 
> 
> Thank you for all your comments and kudos!


	4. Water Balloons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first time Carmen threw a water balloon at Cookie Booker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I imagine Carmen's a little younger than when we see her do this in the series. So...seven?

Being a Faculty member meant that Shadowsan was confined to V.I.L.E. island for the majority of the term. After several years, he minded it less; he had access to private training rooms customized for his specific use, a suite for sleeping and secluded research, and students to torment with increasingly difficult tasks and well-timed growls of displeasure. When none of those things could soothe the restless  _ itch _ that sometimes seized him, he turned to roaming the island. 

This V.I.L.E. class had been particularly vexing: the majority of the young thieves were much more suited to Coach Brunt’s lessons in pugilism or Maelstrom’s psychotic tendencies. They did not appreciate nor understand the need for  _ subtlety _ . His restlessness had snuck up on him behind the waves of frustration, and he’d decked a student after their particularly clumsy and ill-considered attempt to steal the object he’d assigned. The loss of his temper had shocked the trainees into silence. 

He had dismissed them, and  _ retreated _ \-- ninja masters did not  _ flee _ \-- to his quarters to disappear out onto the faculty beach and into the miles of foliage that surrounded the compound.

Moving through the tropical flora as quickly and silently as possible was always good practise. It focused him, unknotted the twisting agitation that made itself known after months stuck with  _ incompetents _ . 

It took him somewhere around an hour to circle the facility at a distance, ducking perimeter sensors and motion detectors and traps that he’d long ago memorized the placement of. His pride swelled at the thought that he could infiltrate and escape one of the most secure buildings on the planet nearly without impediment. He didn’t understand why he couldn’t impart the significance of such a skill to his current group of students. 

He climbed the ridge that overlooked the main dock, pausing in a low crouch to admire the view of the curving island and the expanse of ocean. 

He froze when he noticed movement below him. 

Up the boardwalk, close to where the beach turned to soil was a cluster of boulders big enough to hide several fully-grown people. It was more than enough cover for a precocious, scheming child such as Black Sheep. She had chosen her vantage point with a modicum of skill: she was concealed from sight coming from the water and from the pathway, but Shadowsan had higher ground, so he could observe her crouched form as it shook with silent giggles. 

The rev of a speed boat floated up to his position. He recognized the sleek lines of the craft immediately, as well as the well-dressed woman who came up from below deck as the ship’s captain tied off the moorings. Shadowsan sighed in sudden realization: 

As she had grown older, Black Sheep’s unique status as the only child on the island had meant that she had become...privileged. Spoiled. She could get away with nearly anything and be forgiven. Black Sheep had certainly taken advantage of Coach Brunt’s favoritism; Shadowsan had been careful to create a bit of distance between them, lest she realize that, deep down, he was just as malleable to her will if she truly decided to focus it. 

Now it seemed her inclination to prank everyone unaware and unskilled enough to let her had expanded to include Ms. Booker. His instincts as a Faculty member urged him to intervene before Black Sheep irritated their resident financial advisor. Something else in him, something protective he smothered on a regular basis, wanted to stop Black Sheep before she made an enemy who would hold a grudge for as long as she lived. 

A much larger part of him wanted to see what Black Sheep had planned. He settled onto his belly, content to lay as still as a snake in the sun and observe the chaos as it unfolded. 

Shadowsan was not disappointed. Black Sheep shifted again as Ms. Booker started walking up the dock to the paved pathway; her new position revealed the bright yellow water balloon she hefted, filled nearly to the size of her head. She peeked over the edge of the rocks once more. Ms. Booker was nearly to the end of the beach, and well within accurate throwing range. 

As if cued by the thought, Black Sheep tossed her projectile; had he been anyone else, Shadowsan might have laughed aloud at the undignified screech that was wrenched from Ms. Booker as the balloon found its target. 

“Hey! Get back here, you insolent--!” Her shrill yelling trailed off as Black Sheep darted away into the bushes. From his perch, Shadowsan watched her take a route parallel to the path, but hidden from view. He had no doubt she would be squirreled away somewhere on the campus before Cookie Booker could ever reach her. 

Ms. Booker threw a slight tantrum standing on the edge of the docks, but stomped up towards V.I.L.E campus after composing herself once more. 

Shadowsan waited until enough time had passed that he was certain Ms. Booker would not double back, and the Captain had retreated to his ship. He made his way down the hill, traversing the spot behind the boulders and very casually making every effort to disturb the imprints of Black Sheep’s small shoes in the dirt. Then he strolled to the spot where the balloon had impacted, where water still puddled on the uneven dock planks. Bits of the shredded yellow balloon were meticulously collected and stuffed into the inner pocket of his gi before he departed. 

Black Sheep would learn to clean up and conceal traces of her capers, but until that time, Shadowsan did not mind...helping. She had shown admirable skill in planning and execution. He tightened his mouth against a grin; he doubted Ms. Booker was appreciating Black Sheep’s aptitude at the moment. 

*********

Predictably, Ms. Booker accused Black Sheep of ambushing her with the water balloon at the first opportunity that did not make her appear whiny and petulant. Shadowsan followed her when she went back to the dock to try and find proof -- a requirement to convince Coach Brunt the girl deserved punishment -- knowing she would turn up with nothing and watching the progression of her faces between disbelief and frustration with amusement. She did not attempt to bring it up again, and the cowed, business-like demeanor she exuded for the rest of her visit made her immensely more tolerable. 

Shadowsan threw away all but the largest piece of shredded, yellow balloon. That he tucked into an intricately embroidered silk pouch beside the polished mollusk shell. The pouch returned to its place in the false-bottom drawer in his closet. 

Shadowsan returned to class the next day. He overheard his students later commenting on his strange moods, snappish, brutal, and terrifying one day and strangely calm, but still terrifying the next. 

He briefly considered asking Black Sheep to disrupt their day with well-timed water balloons, but concluded that she might take it as encouragement. 

Black Sheep certainly didn’t need it to continue working her way towards playing a practical joke on everyone on the island. Shadowsan hoped she was wise enough  _ not _ to attempt one on him, else she was in for a rude awakening. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Enforced isolation breeds boredom, but eventual productiveness. Thank you for your comments and kudos, feel free to leave more ;-)
> 
> Best wishes for your health and safety y'all.


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